Dear soccer fan, please forgive me.

This is my first soccer confession. We have been acquaintances for a little bit of time now and I have to be a bit more forthcoming with you. Personally, it is for the best. While some of this may hurt, I think it is imperative for you and I to be on common ground as this relationship progresses. So, grab an adult beverage (or not) and grit your teeth (or not) as what I am about to tell you may alter the course of our writer/reader relationship. In fact, it may make you lose any and all respect for me (that is, if there was any respect for me there to begin with. I understand that is quite a stretch.)

Here we go:

- For years there have been rumors circulating that I tried to name my first born “Beckham”. In many circles I denied this claim incredulously. It is time to come clean; I did lobby to name our first child after Becks. My wife, being incredibly awesome and having a sound mind, was able to see that doing so was not in our child’s best intentions. I relented. I felt shame. However, there are times when I look at my now 8-year-old son and think, “I don’t care what the others say, if your name was Beckham, that would be bad ass.”

Please forgive me. Are you okay? Can you continue? I hope so, as I must go on.

- Here is quite wicked googly. My wife and I traveled to London on our honeymoon and I never went to see a Premiership match. This confession alternately pains me greatly/gives me a smile. The pain side is obvious. Heck, our hotel was just blocks away from Stamford Bridge (which I didn’t even go see, I’m a horrible person.) It would have been great to see a game over there. It really would have. And we were overseas at such an exciting time in EPL history – Leeds and Chelsea were on the ascendency, Le Tissier was still mucking about and scored his 100th goal with Southampton, and guys like Beckham, Butt, and Giggs were continually trouncing others at the top of the table.

Why didn’t we go? Well, we were busy with other things. So, there’s that.

I’m not sure if you are okay.

You seem as if you are having some sort of a conniption. Let’s just try to finish up, no?

- I have been to exactly one MLS game, only one. Here I am, Mr. Superfan and I have only been to one MLS game? What gives, right? Well, wait. It gets better. The game I attended was in1997 – Kansas City Wiz vs. New England Revolution. Arrowhead Stadium seemed to be about ¼ full. People were unsure what to cheer about. The rules were weird. Honestly, they were still doing kick-ins instead of throw-ins and all that jazz. It was kind of a bad experience. Anyway, this was the second season of MLS. The league was still finding an identity. I only made the long drive from St. Louis to K.C. to see an idol of mine, Walter Zenga, between the pipes for the Revolution. Also, in an effort of full disclosure, Zenga did not even play that day. He rode the bench. It just added to the surreal feel of the event.

Now, that’s not to say I have not been an MLS supporter. Not the case at all, I just haven’t made it to another game. I truly intend to rectify this discrepancy during this upcoming MLS season. I owe it to my wife. I owe it to my kids. I owe it to you. I owe it to myself.

Well, that’s it. Those are my confessions. I trust that the eye-rolling/saliva drooling combo is a sign of forgiveness. Now, those in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones, right? You can’t tell me that you don’t have a soccer skeleton or two in that closet of yours, right?

We are fans of soccer. We, the collective soccer fan base, generally seem to enjoy a variety of things in addition to soccer. You will find members of our group who enjoy traveling, reading, and fine dining. You will find others among our midst that enjoy gaming, junk food, and diluted gin from the local grocery store. To each his own, right? (In an effort of full disclosure and brutal honesty, I have found myself enjoying all of those at one time or another. And, there is nothing wrong with any of those leisure activities, except for the grocery store gin. This, in hindsight, may be a cry for help. I’m just putting that out there.)

However, there seems to be at least one tie, other than soccer, that binds us all together: our proclivity to argue. Is there a fan base that bickers more than soccer fans? If so, I am yet to find it. Now, keep in mind, I’m not referring to the terrible riots and stampedes that we have seen recently and in years past. That is quite another level of horror and one that I hope we don’t find on our shores. I’m speaking just fan to fan. It seems that those of us in North America, perhaps because we have already been a bit persecuted just by being soccer fans, tend to jump down the throats of others who share a different soccer viewpoint.

For example, I recently got into a discussion with a new acquaintance at soccer sign-ups for my kids school league. It went something like this:

Acquaintance: “Hey, I saw you coach last year. You were wearing a Lampard jersey, right?”
Me: “Yes, that was likely me. I’m a big Chelsea fan. Who do you…“

Acquaintance: “Chelsea sucks. Lampard sucks. Manchester United is the best team in the world. Seriously, why would you even bother with that team?”
Me: “Well, I started supporting them in middle school after I read Glanville’s…”

Acquaintance (walking away and grabbing his kids): “Whatever. Chicharito is better than Torres or Drogba.”

Me: “Well, if recent form is the only thing we are going to look at, then I am inclined to agree with you, stranger. Your argument, while off-putting, is not without its merits. Where did he go? I’m talking to myself again, aren’t I? He left like a minute ago, didn’t he? Hey kids, did you see a guy over here talking to me?”

I am embellishing slightly, but the premise was the same. There seems to be, at least in my experience, real venom in many soccer dialogues with casual (and not so casual) fans in these parts. Maybe it is just the area I live in. Or maybe it is just my stupid, smug face. Is it the same for you?

That’s not to say all dialogue goes this way. I just had a nice give and take with a superior at work about Wayne Rooney’s recent work rate. (Wayne Rooney’s recent work rate, say that 5 times fast…) I am of the opinion that his work rate has suffered recently (again, just his work rate, not his play or results – settle down). I think, compared to his normal bull-dog approach, Rooney has been playing it slightly safer when away from the ball. My superior thought I was insane, and perhaps he is right. He made some valid points. We didn’t change each other’s point of view but we had some good dialogue. And at least he didn’t take his kids and run away after screaming his point of view. So, there might just be hope for us all.

Where have all of the bad asses gone? 

I’m being serious. I’m not saying soccer is without any tough players – not the case at all.  Actually, it can be argued that soccer players are even more bad ass than ever right about now.  Fitness, equipment, and the quality of the game continue to improve all of the time, forcing players to reach new levels in all aspects of the game.

What I’m asking is where are those larger-than-life bad asses?  I miss the Vinnie Jones’ of the world.

While I was growing up, Vinnie Jones was the cat.  Seriously, if the opponents weren’t crapping themselves at the possibility of playing against him, then they had ice in their veins.  He was (and still is) brash, outrageous, and could usually back it up on the pitch.  If he couldn’t back it up, he would at least grab your testicles and remind you of his presence, just ask Gazza.

I think we need more Vinnie Jones/Dunga type guys.

Dunga was a master of intimidation.  Brazil has always had a “soft” reputation.  Their teams play with unparalleled skill and beautiful fluidity.  Traditionally they didn’t have “hard asses”.  Dunga changed that.  Hell, he didn’t even have to do anything.  That buzz cut and scowl said it all.  The fact that he was a damn good defender was just icing on the cake.  Even now, closing in on 50, Dunga still looks like he could play the lead villain in any “Die Hard” film.  Seriously.

Then there is the enigmatic Eric Cantona.  That crazy Frenchman is still considered by many to be the best player to ever don the Manchester United jersey.  That’s a bold statement.  But “The King” brought a physical presence coupled with unbelievable skill and unparalleled confidence to the pitch.  Everyone knew where he was on the field, and every one knew not to mess with him. He was always on the verge of something amazing (or bat poop insane.)  Ultimately, it is not every day that you see a star player run and successfully land a flying ninja kick on a taunting supporter.

_

Flying drop kicks aside…

Today we are challenged to find those types of personalities.  Don’t get me wrong, we are in a hay day of excellent, physical players.  Ferdinand, Terry, Vidic, Pique, Lahm, and more are all world class and then some.  However, with the exception of maybe Ferdinand in his ill-advised corn row phase, none of these guys strike fear in to the hearts (and genitals) like a Jones, a Cantona, or a Dunga.

Just sayin’.

Now, I’m not the final word here.  Drop us a comment and have your say.  Any up and coming tough guys we should be watching?

Finally, on a sad (and serious) note, American soccer lost an icon this past week.  Harry Keough passed away at the age of 84. You might know Harry as the gentleman who scored the famous goal in the 1950 World Cup game that saw the Americans beat the heavily favored England team.  I can tell you, Harry and his family are all household names in the St. Louis area.  They have done so much to grow and promote the game. It is a shame to see him pass on.  So, wherever you are this week, toss one back for Harry.

Being a sports fan in the United States is easy. On every corner, at every bar, and in every conference room you’ll find conversations about the upcoming Super Bowl. You might hear dialogue about the latest NBA marriage fallout. There is always someone near who is spouting off about their fantasy team. Or, depending on where you are at, you might overhear discussion about Tim Thomas the hockey player versus Tim Thomas the activist. However, being a soccer fan in the United States is still not that easy. If I walk in to my local bar or restaurant and start talking El Clasico I can guarantee one of two outcomes:

Outcome one: background music screeches to a halt, children scream out quickly and then are suddenly silenced, and every set of eyes in the place glares at me in rage until I spontaneously burst into flames.

Outcome two: background music screeches to a halt, a bouncer comes out of nowhere (even at this nice, family-owned bar and grill), and fires me through the plate-glass window at the front of the establishment while everyone in the restaurant cheers.

Alright, those might be slight embellishments. (And I do mean slight. I damn near got beaten to a pulp and left for dead at a Dairy Queen for arguing about how soccer was better than basketball. I’ll share that story with you when I feel that you are old enough.)

In all honesty, being a soccer fan in the States has gotten better – but not due to public perception. It has gotten better because of the Internet and cable/satellite television. Growing up as a child in the 80’s, my access to soccer information was limited to outdated encyclopedias in the local library, outdated articles in random outdated publications, and in Subbuteo ads in the back of said random, outdated publications. (Damn, I wanted a Subbuteo table in the worst way.)

Soccer on TV? That was unheard of, with the exception of “Soccer Made in Germany.” If I could haul may happy behind out of bed on Saturday mornings I could watch this nugget of pure gold. It was an hour long weekly that was played on PBS in the late 70’s and early 80’s. This program focused on the old West German football teams and it might of well have been sent directly from the heavens. It didn’t matter that I couldn’t pronounce Kaiserslautern or Koln. It didn’t matter that the video was grainy and that the players’ shorts were so tight and tiny that they looked like briefs. All that mattered was the fact that soccer was being shown on American television. I was hooked.

As the years went by, soccer news and soccer games started making inroads towards the American psyche. We saw Paul launch us to Italy. We were able to see the World Cup come to our shores. We saw Brandi rip off her shirt. We saw Landon personally keep our country’s hopes alive. In spite of that the collective consciousness of soccer is somewhere behind hockey and tennis in America.

Today, access to soccer is available 24/7. FSC and the Internet have been priceless gifts to me and other struggling Yankee soccer fans. We can now catch up on highlights in the middle of the night or take off work early to catch an FA Cup match. We have the power! Well, the power to consume soccer at least. The power to have intelligent discussions with strangers in public is still a ways away. But that’s fine for now. I can’t ask my neighbor if she thinks Messi should play more of a holding role without having her look at me as if a chupacabra is on my head. But I have people like you guys for that, and I’m grateful. I’ll just have to stick with asking her if she thinks Tom Brady will have a good game or if LeBron will ever come back to those of us in Ohio. She’ll answer that crap and think I’m normal. I feel bad for her…